X Marks the Spot
by CharmedReality
Summary: Broken-hearted and alone, Kenshin stumbles upon a village of people seeking redemption headed by a familiar and beautiful former pirate. Shura x Kenshin
1. Strange Acquaintence

X Marks the Spot: Strange Acquaintance

DISCLAIMER: Not my booty. (I couldn't stop myself.)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my sequel to _Crossing the Line_. However, I am intending to write this story in such a way that it is not necessary to have read that story first. I know many readers, myself included, can be picky when it comes to pairings, so I understand that someone who wants to check out a Kenshin/Shura may not necessarily be interested in a Sano/Kaoru.

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Alone.

With each step of his travel-worn sandals he would pass by another traveler. None of them knew the diminutive man wearing pale shades of red and walking beside them was a killer. To be fair it had been nearly twelve years since he had murdered anyone. Although, only one year ago he found the blood of an escaped convict staining his reverse blade sword.

Nevertheless, he had been a renowned assassin.

And yet, even when he was at the height of his skill, sending blood raining down upon the earth in the midst of a difficult political revolution on a daily basis, he never enjoyed it. It was simply what he was. He was an assassin. He killed whom he was told to kill. He stayed where he was told to stay. And he even married whom he was told to marry.

It was with the absolution of that marriage that he moved into a new chapter of his life where his sword became a tool for protecting instead of an instrument of death. He spent his time wandering just as he was doing now--only coming to rest for a short but meaningful span of time in Tokyo.

That time ended, and he was once again alone in a crowd of strangers. The road was thick with people. They crowded into the same space and breathed the same sickly warm air: the young, the elderly, the infirmed, the healthy, the beautiful, the strong, the vulnerable, and the guilty.

They were all together, and they were all alone.

"Himura-san!" called a youthful voice as a small figure barreled through the lines of people. The wiry, dark-haired boy skidded to a halt at the traveler's side and with a lop-sided grin, offered him the scroll he was carrying. "Himura-san, you forgot this in your room!"

Kenshin did not need to open the scroll to know what it was. Upon the rolled parchment was a delicately painted scene which, while beautiful, could never compare to the enchantment of the actual location it depicted. It gave the barest glimpse into the detail and magnitude of a specific grove of flowering sakura trees at night, sparkling with the light of hundreds of fireflies.

A slender, calloused hand accepted the scroll somewhat hesitantly. He had not intended to leave it behind in one of the many rooms he had recently boarded for the night. But perhaps something in his subconscious had caused him to overlook it.

The painting symbolized more than just a breath-taking place. It triggered a particularly haunting memory of a time when he had a chance to choose a different path for his life and let it pass by. It was his burden to bear--the painting, the memory, and the past. A convenient accident could not change that, so he only nodded politely to the inn keeper's child and continued his journey alone.

After hours of walking aimlessly, he found himself among trees and birds; far away from the bustle of other people. It was a toss up between which he preferred--the towns or the country. In town he was self-conscious that someone would see him for who he had been--Battousai the manslayer. The X-shaped scar on his face clearly labeled him for those who understood the inner workings of the revolution.

However, at times like these when there was truly nobody in proximity he found he had less to keep his mind distracted. In the forest he didn't need to concentrate on the crowd; keeping his senses alerted to any who may strike at him or any who may be in danger. His mind was free to wander wherever it pleased. The only problem was it always wandered back to the same face.

In his mind two effervescent, ocean-colored eyes set upon a creamy, flawless completion and framed by dark tendrils of hair stared into his soul. Full, pink lips smiled at him as though his very presence fueled the light of her radiance. It was the face he had enjoyed for the span of a year. It belonged to a girl who had touched his heart and changed his life.

And as he treaded the rough forest path he knew she still beamed with that same inner glow, but there was a new recipient for the love it conveyed.

Not for the first time, he considered the sad irony of the situation. After years of having no place to call home and no one to call family he stumbled into the lives of Kaoru Kamiya and Sanosuke Sagara.

They were arguably the only true friends he had ever allowed himself to have, and they were certainly the people he cared about the most. And in the end, when his own guilt and inner conflict prevented him from expressing how much he really cared for Kaoru, it was his best friend that did.

He couldn't blame them. He could never blame Kaoru for anything at all. The only thing she ever wanted from him was for him to stay by her side. And the only thing he ever seemed capable of doing was leaving.

This time was no different.

Kenshin ducked to pass under a low lying branch obscuring the trail. A sharp broken twig snagged his hand and tore at his skin. A tiny bead of blood appeared on the surface. Dark red contrasted with the light tone of the skin. He rubbed his finger over the small wound to remove the offending presence. He silently wished that was all it would take to erase the blood from his past.

The sounds of other travelers not far ahead met his trained ears and tabled his mental monologue for a later time.

His sandaled feet carried him to the site of a robbery where he paused to assess the situation before taking action.

He gazed upon one extremely young, fragile-looking wisp of a man, dressed in a full range of blue fabrics who was standing in the center of a ring of five enormous thugs. They towered over their prey, weapons in hand and ready to strike. But one thing was keeping them from collecting whatever currency he carried.

The outnumbered, out-muscled, boyish man was smiling.

"I'm going to wipe that smile off of your face, Baka!" declared a man with matted hair and a lazy eye once he shook off the surprise of seeing such a calm appearance on someone about to be pounded. He gripped the makeshift club he had obviously liberated from a nearby tree and rushed toward his thin opponent.

The rough wood splintered upon contact, sending the man on the other side of the hit down for the count with blood pooling around the non-lethal wound.

"Ryoichi!" gasped a wide-eyed criminal as he realized the swift blow had been delivered to one of their companions and not the man dressed in blue.

"I have no wish to engage in battle," came a far too upbeat voice to their immediate left.

"Get him!" The remaining four standing thugs rushed upon his position, but once again he vanished more swiftly than their untrained eyes could perceive. His speed and uncommon ability to remain placid in the midst of conflict had the bandits thoroughly rattled. They were becoming exceedingly clumsy and doing more damage to themselves than to their intended mark.

Kenshin was not surprised by the scene unraveling before him. He had witnessed the fast young fighter once before in Kyoto not long after the night of the fireflies. Initially, he had readied himself to aid the outnumbered man, but within minutes the boyish man with large eyes the color of the sea at night found himself to be the last one standing without so much as drawing his sword.

"I was wondering when I would see you again, Himura-san," he said without bothering to look in Kenshin's direction. He was still busy checking the wounds on the fallen men.

"Hello, Soujiro. It is unlikely that we ran into one another here." The red head was not taken aback by the fact the younger man had sensed him even in the midst of a confrontation. He would have expected no less from the highly skilled former assassin.

It had been at least a year since Kenshin's battle with Shishio in Kyoto. Soujiro had been Shishio's right hand man in his war to overthrow the government which had used him for his death-dealing abilities and then tossed him aside when he was no longer useful.

Soujiro had taken to his position quite naturally. He thoroughly embraced the Darwinian principals Shishio had taught him--the strong survive and the weak must die. It was his battle with Kenshin that forced his beliefs to be tested and found to be...lacking.

Content that none of the men who had knocked one another out were in need of medical assistance, he approached the rurouni. "Actually, I expected to see you."

This time Soujiro had managed to catch Kenshin off guard. "Why is that?"

"I have been searching for answers and meaning for my future while you have been seeking atonement for your past. It seems only reasonable that we would both be drawn to a village rumored to be for people just like us." His large, expressive eyes flashed brightly. The eerie aspect was that they always seemed fixed upon the same pleasant expression.

The wheels inside Kenshin's mind spun furiously, trying to remember any bits of conversation he had stumbled upon in his travels that would give him some indication as to what Soujiro was referring. He berated himself for not paying more attention to the people whose lives he had been passing through recently and turned his confused, violet eyes to the other man.

"I am afraid I have never heard of such a place."

"Then I suppose it is odd we have run into each other here of all places. If what I have heard is to be believed then we are only a day's journey away from Shoukyaku, the village of second chances," he replied politely.

"You believe your questions will be answered there?" Kenshin asked with genuine curiosity.

He cocked his head slightly and continued projecting his smiling mask. "It is supposed to be a village founded on the principals of hope and redemption. It is a place where those who used to spend their lives torturing others for power, wealth, and perversion can find new ways of conducting themselves. It is a haven for misfits and criminals who want to mend their ways and lead normal lives without judgment. So, if not there, then where?"

'Where, indeed?' thought Kenshin. The concept of such a place sounded wonderful to his guilt-laden heart, but years of experience had built a jaded wall around that heart, and it told him to beware of trouble anywhere criminals gather.

Perhaps he would find salvation, and perhaps he would find a battle ground. Either way he knew he wanted to see the place first-hand regardless of the consequences.

Soujiro's chipper voice pulled him out of his reverie. "I would enjoy the company if you would like to travel with me to Shoukyaku."

Kenshin's flame colored hair swung and swirled with the force of the breeze blowing against the pair of former assassins. He carefully regarded the younger man's offer before accepting. "I would appreciate that. Thank you, Soujiro."

Kenshin was used to being alone. He had come to expect it. Even when he was closer to someone than he had ever been he was still far away. But he would travel with the smiling Soujiro. He would see this village of redemption with his violet eyes. And he would do his part to payback the universe for the blood he had spilled.

And it seemed he would have some company in his solitude--at least for now.

**-ooo-oooooo-ooo-**

AUTHOR'S NOTE: No Shura yet, but soon. I hope you enjoyed so far, and I'll see you next chapter! Please review!

P.S. Shoukyaku means repayment/redemption. At least that is what the online translator that managed to not use kanji told me. Either way, I just needed a Japanese sounding word so if you know it to mean something else, then oh well.


	2. Shards of Memory

X Marks the Spot: Shards of memory

DISCLAIMER: Rurouni Kenshin is the property of someone who is far faster writer than I, because I can't even get my fanfics to come out regularly, let alone create an entire manga.

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The "village" Kenshin found himself in was little more than a collection of ragged structures with a few people milling about. It was a far cry from Tokyo and Kyoto, but there was something almost reassuring about being so far away from the throngs of people. It made being recognized as the former Battousai less of a possibility at least. However, if what Soujiro claimed was true about the place being a refuge for those who weren't meant to be forgiven then that might not be the case with these particular inhabitants.

He continued to scan the area with genuine interest. There were several scattered homes, but only a handful of businesses and even fewer that looked even moderately respectable.

Many of the buildings appeared to be in disrepair and the locals seemed more than a little rough around the edges. One man looked up from knocking a rock out of his sandal. At first Kenshin thought he was going to wave, but instead he only offered an obscene hand gesture before turning away briskly.

But what really struck him was the location. Just behind the village was a sharp drop off. At the bottom of the solid wall of jagged rock was a stunning coastline of pristine sand stretching into the sparkling ocean. The brilliant cerulean waves glistened in the afternoon sun so brightly Kenshin had to look away.

"I am not sure what I was expecting from a place alleged to offer redemption to even the most heinous sinner, but I was hoping it might have been a little cleaner," Soujiro bantered as he assessed their surroundings.

The red head had to laugh in response. Then it occurred to him the irreverent but applicable words sounded less like something his fellow former assassin and current rurouni companion would say and more like a certain former fighter-for-higher he left back in Tokyo. His laughter died in his throat as feelings of loss swelled within his small frame.

Every time his thoughts drifted back to either Sano or Kaoru the memory cut him like a shard of glass. He wished he could concentrate on all the positive aspects of his time with them: the laughter, the sweetness, the companionship. But it was still too soon even though it had been a long time already. How long had it taken him to get over Tomoe's death?

Unknowingly, he brushed the X-shaped scar on his cheek with calloused fingertips. He never did get over her death. He couldn't, because he was the reason for it. He was also the reason Kaoru finally gave up on waiting for him and turned to Sano. He couldn't blame them, so he blamed himself. It was convenient enough since he already had a lengthy list of reasons to hate himself--what was a couple more?

To his credit, the smiling man did not comment on Kenshin's sudden shift in attitude. It had been obvious from their reunion that the skeletons in the older man's closet had become more numerous in the time since they parted ways in Kyoto.

"Well, we came this far. Shall we have a look around?" the raven haired Soujiro offered.

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A young man, no more than a boy really, was hurrying back to his place of employment when an outstretched foot sent him tumbling down face first in the dirt. The contents of the basket he was carrying spilled out into the street, damaging some of the vegetables he had spent the majority of the morning harvesting from his small garden.

"Hey, mute gimp! Are you scurrying off to your Mom? Only she isn't your Mom is she? You are just another worthless bastard child, aren't you?"

Sarujiro's angry, dark eyes glared daggers at the teenage boy who had tripped him. It was not the first time this particular group had harassed him. He wanted to spit poison darts at them as he used to do when he aided in the looting of merchant ships. But those days were long past, and he didn't want to disappoint the woman who had taken him in when he had no where to go by brawling like a street thug.

"What, no come backs?" the older boy taunted while his companions laughed mechanically as if on cue. "Did you hear me, boy? It's funny because you can't talk!"

Sarujiro continued glaring without emitting a sound. It was true he could not speak, but he took some comfort in the knowledge that at least he wasn't a complete moron like some people he knew.

He quickly pulled himself to his feet before the other boy could land a kick to his side. On his feet, his dark eyes flashed with pride beneath his unruly mane of coal black hair. He stared intensely at the gang of three. He was small, but he was wiry and good in a fight. He knew he could take out at least one of them before the other two took him down. An amused smirk appeared on his lips as he easily decided which one it should be.

But before anything could happen, the hazel haired boy hanging toward the back bleached to a ghostly shade of white.

"I...It's Soujiro the Tenken!" Without further words two boys sped away from the scene as if their very lives depended on it.

The leader seemed reluctant, but once his backup had fled facing off against the "mute gimp" didn't seem quite so appealing.

Sarujiro was almost disappointed he missed his chance to send a flying kick to a certain vulnerable area of a very irritating boy, but he also had no interest in learning more about whoever just scared off the other three, so he grabbed his basket and took off toward the restaurant in which he worked.

Kenshin and Soujiro approached the spot that had recently been occupied by four young men. They had not heard much of the conflict other than the boy's scream of terror at the recognition of the youthful looking, smiling man.

"I certainly have a way of clearing a path," he joked softly.

"They are young and don't understand," Kenshin said weakly in an effort to comfort him and perhaps to comfort himself.

"I was a ruthless killer who believed only the strong lived and the weak should die. I think they caught on pretty well," he replied unabashedly.

"Soujiro..."

"I can't change the past, Himura-san. But I do have to find a way to keep living, right? Speaking of living, we haven't had lunch yet."

Just as he was about to respond, a loud growl sounded from the pit of his empty stomach. In another place, he would have issued an embarrassed, "Oro!" But he was not in another place. The man beside him may not know exactly what his past contained, but it didn't matter. He had an even darker history, and Kenshin was not concerned he would discover the truth and abandon him.

The younger man was just someone he fought once, and who was accompanying him only temporarily. He was not a fiery, dark haired girl carrying a wooden sword and launching into beautiful sounding promises of acceptance that warmed and frightened his fragile heart. He had no reason to shield the other man from his dark past with a pretence of naïveté.

So, instead, he said nothing and scanned the various buildings in search of something that looked like a restaurant.

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The Kairyu was small and dark, but through the meticulous efforts of its proprietor it managed to stay clean and intact which was something that could not be said of many other places in town. She had been one of the first people to settle in Shoukyaku, and she was determined to see it live up to its potential.

The bar was actually built out of pieces of an old ship's hull, and the few decorations that did adorn the walls were stripped from the same boat. It had a rustic, cozy feel that was a credit to the ambitious young woman who had taken it upon herself to open a restaurant in the middle of such a desolate setting in the midst of an unlikely and not altogether trustworthy group of individuals.

A particularly rowdy crowd had settled into a corner section where they surrounded a former galley table and proceeded to consume vast amounts of sake. Normally, she would have cut their supply off before they became drunk and worked up, but money had been tight. It was not an inexpensive effort to import supplies from other towns when they were located so far from the main roads.

Besides, she could take care of a few drunken men; after all she had only lost in battle to one man. And she would walk a plank before she let a few simpletons intimidate the former leader of the pirate group, Kairyu. At least it was a pirate group before the mutiny that led her to abandon her thieving ways and seek a path in life her father would have been proud of.

She named the bar after the pirates in tribute to the past she had laid to rest. Despite whatever else may have happened, there were fond memories of days rolling over the waves of the sea in a worthy craft, the scent of saltwater wafting on a cool breeze and the companionship of those who were loyal to her father's beliefs at her side.

With a careful eye she studied the loud men for signs of their innocent carousing turning dangerous. She had learned the hard way long ago not to be too trusting when it came to others.

Absently, she wiped down the already immaculate bar top. Her long dark hair was tied back, but unruly sprigs framed her attractive face. She was clad in a long crimson wrap, cinched at the waist with a flowing violet scarf over a pair of tan pants, ending in a set of leather boots worthy of sea travel. It was not the garb of a common restaurant owner, but she was far from common.

There was a sharp crash when a heavy glass mug collided with the dark, unyielding wooden floor, shattering it and sending glass shards flying.

"Hey sweetheart, think you can bend over and pick that up for me?" asked a very large, very dirty looking man who was missing one of his front teeth and appeared to have quite the overbite. His friends exploded in riotous laughter at his request, and they all ogled her closely as her dark cinnamon tinted eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You've had one too many if you think I'll be giving you a show anytime soon," she replied in a smooth tone while holding her head high. Beneath the table she reflexively gripped a set of nunchucks she had in reserve for such occasions, but seldom needed.

The lecherous smile the ringleader had been wearing dropped into an equally unattractive scowl as his companions' laughter grew all the louder at her insult. With his honor on the line he pulled himself to his feet, wavering slightly as the alcohol attacked his senses at the sudden movement.

"BITCH!" he screamed unimaginatively at the composed woman behind the protective sheath of the bar.

Before she had time to fire back a retort a small blur flew out of the store room and laid siege to the stocky man's vulnerable legs. The impact caused both the loud mouth and the impetus boy who torpedoed into him to smash against the back wall.

"Saru!" she called out in concern before launching herself over the bar instead of wasting the additional seconds it would have taken to run around it.

She crossed the small room in seconds, but she wasn't fast enough to prevent the angry man from backhanding the mute Sarujiro into a nearby table. It only took registering a streak of blood on his tanned face to enrage her protective instincts.

"How dare you come into my establishment and handle yourself like a barbarian!" One hand was planted firmly against her hip while the other clutched her nunchucks threateningly. "Prepare yourself!"

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"Kairyu..." Kenshin read the familiar word that had been painstakingly painted on a board hanging from rusty chains outside the sturdiest building on the street.

"Something wrong, Himura-san?" Soujiro asked with a lift in his brow.

"Oh, it's nothing. That restaurant just has the same name as a group I encountered once," he explained with a false smile similar to his companion's.

"Good encounter or bad?"

Kenshin's violet eyes continued to watch the sign as it swung ideally in the cool breeze wafting from the nearby water. "A little of both actually," he replied slowly before turning to look at the younger man. "I was taken hostage by pirates."

Soujiro's eyes both opened wider in surprise. "Sounds like it was a great time," he quipped sarcastically.

Kenshin's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You are more flippant than I remember."

"I guess talking to people instead of killing them has changed my attitude somewhat, but back to this kidnapping story..."

"I wasn't 'kidnapped.' I offered myself in trade for Kaoru when she was taken as a prisoner. The leader agreed to the exchange and took me to their island."

"Why didn't he kill you?" asked Soujiro with great interest in the fantastic-sounding story.

"She."

"Excuse me?"

Kenshin sighed inwardly before continuing. "The pirate leader was a woman named Shura. And she didn't kill me because..." His voice drifted off as he tried to come up with the answer.

His eyes took on a vacant expression as he remembered the feel of cold steel placed against his vulnerable throat. He had offered his life to her in payment, and she seemed ready to collect, but she hesitated. In the end the only thing cut was a lock of his hair that fell to the sandy beach at their feet.

He remembered the confused look in her eyes, but he wasn't sure exactly why she had spared him. He just knew she was a good person.

"Himura-san?"

Once again Kenshin snapped out of his reverie and made eye contact with the curious former Juppongatana. He laughed awkwardly in the style he had perfected from years of proving just how harmless he could be as a rurouni. "I guess I am not sure, that I am not."

Soujiro seemed ready to press the issue further, but was interrupted as a very large man was sent sailing through a very closed door. Wood splintered and bones cracked as a man who was now missing two front teeth found himself firmly implanted in the dusty street.

Several other men stumblingly rushed out of the dining establishment with expressions of fear clearly etched on their faces.

"And stay out!" called a booming voice from the abused doorway.

There was something achingly familiar about the voice that tore Kenshin's eyes away from the fleeing men and toward that which had them spooked. Standing only meters away, was the very pirate he had just been discussing.

"Shura?"

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it has taken me so long to update this fic. Still, I hope you enjoyed. Please review!

Special thanks to BelleDayNight for her help with this chapter!


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